


When the Rain Stops

by CrowLikesShinyThings



Series: Clear Skies 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Flirting, Gabriel has amnesia, Height Differences, M/M, Misunderstandings, Semi-Public Sex, Stanford Era, he gives Sam terrible nicknames, he thinks he's human, his name is Oliver, it's pretty cute, they get chinese food later, which Sam fails at
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5003389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowLikesShinyThings/pseuds/CrowLikesShinyThings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While at college Sam runs into this really short, snarky guy who keeps insisting Sam grabs him books off high shelves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Rain Stops

**Author's Note:**

> Also on Tumblr:  
> http://diowarwahl.tumblr.com/post/124382644837/when-the-rain-stops
> 
> This might eventually have a follow-up fic (two actually), but I can't make any promises.
> 
> I'm not experienced in writing gay porn, so be gentle please?

Sam loves Stanford, he really does.

If he was being completely honest with himself, it wasn’t the paradise that he dreamed of when he was a teenager, but it was still a place he felt at home in. It felt _right,_ like this was his destiny.

All the little nuisances that come up during the day do not bother him too badly – he’s been through a lot worse during the constant movement and changing of schools. Being the new kid anywhere sucks period. It’s made him somewhat paranoid when people approach him, but he’s found that people here are a lot more accepting, a lot _nicer_ , than when they were teenagers.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean he’s free from grief. There will be assholes no matter where you go.  This is how he meets the short, golden-eyed boy that likes to call him by terrible nicknames.

Sam understands that other people aren’t short – he’s just tall – but this circumstance requires the emphasis, because it’s sort of how they meet. Sam was wandering through the campus library, looking for the section housing the texts he needs for his studies, when he sees this brown-blonde guy trying to climb the shelves to get the book he needs.

The man isn’t _that_ short (at least compared to average), and his hand _is_ on the book he wants, but he looks like he will fall and bring down the whole thing with him. Even in cartoons it’s a phenomenally stupid idea to climb bookshelves, and it’s one of those things that also apply to real life.

“Hey, watch yourself!” Sam calls, hurrying over in case the man does fall.

“I got it – I don’t need a fucking stepladder!” the other snaps.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Sam frowns at him, easily reaching over him and grabbing the book he needs. The guy steps down from the shelf and turns on him, face crumpled in frustration. For a moment they stand there looking at each other, the book still in Sam’s hand, because the first thing he notices about the man (other than the fact that he only comes up to Sam’s shoulder) is that the light catches his eyes at just the right angle to make them look _gold_.

The golden-eyed man then spits out a petulant sigh and grabs the book right out of Sam’s hand. “Thanks, I guess,” the frustration in his expression eases somewhat, and while he looks tired, he also gives Sam a tight smile, “Might have broken something if that had fallen on me.”

“Yeah,” Sam says lamely, “Just, be careful, all right?”

The man snorts, “Sure.”

He then walks straight past Sam and disappears into the maze that is the library, leaving Sam blinking after him, unsure about what just happened. What he does know is that was sort of rude.

 

* * *

 

The next time they meet is nothing like the first.

First of all, Sam isn’t wandering around, and secondly, the guy approaches _him_ instead of the other way around. Sam’s neck deep in writing a paper for this bastard of a professor (sometimes he wishes that a wendigo or some other creature of the night would swoop in and just fucking off the guy) when he hears someone clear their throat somewhere next to him. Sam is understandably jumpy, and glares when he sees it isn’t some sort of monster, and just the short man he helped the week before.

Somewhat annoyed that he’s been interrupted, he grits out, “Do you need something?”

The other man fidgets somewhat, but the sheepish smile on his face is totally different than last time, “Yeah, I wanted to say I was sorry for snapping at you last week … but I also kind of need help again.”

For a moment Sam just deadpans. He remembers how he’d been brushed off so quickly last time, but the guy _did_ apologize. “Alright, fine,” Sam sighs, making sure to save his document before standing up. His legs get caught under the table, and he can see the other boy trying not to laugh.

Sam’s lead to the other side of the library, and sure enough, there’s another book on the top shelf that the blonde boy could fall and break something trying to retrieve. He feels somewhat bad being annoyed at him, because this time even he needs to stretch to get it.

The boy’s eyes are sparkling when Sam presents it to him.

“That all you need?” Sam sighs.

“Yeah, thanks a lot!” he beams. He turns to head off in another direction, “See you later Sasquatch!”

Sam stares at the retreating back (not his butt, _not his butt_ ) dumbly, before rolling his eyes (he is _not_ smiling) and heading off to finish his paper.

 

* * *

 

Sam starts to grow suspicious when the mystery short person starts asking for his help up to four times a week. It’s starting to aggravate him, especially since he’s got a lot of work to do, and he doesn’t really have time to humor every person who wants to talk to him.

(But he’ll admit to himself that he gets up anyway because the guy just looks at him with those unfairly pretty eyes and he’s just _gone_.)

What really gets on his nerves though is the nicknames:

“Can I get some help here Moose-man?”

“Lend me your arms, Ginormo!”

“How’s the weather, Jolly Green?”

“Careful there Goliath!”

“What’s up, Gigantor?”

“Thanks for the help, Tower of Babylon.” (That last one still boggles him.)

He’s fairly certain that the guy is just messing with him, because the guy isn’t a midget, and a lot of the things he asks for help with are totally in his height range. When Sam calls him out on it he says: “I’ve got a bad back!”

Yeah, _right_.

It kept getting on his nerves, but the more frustrated he got, the more he kept thinking about pinning the blonde to the bookcase and shutting him up by shoving his tongue down his throat. It didn’t help that his hair was shiny and looked so _soft_ , and his fucking stubble-beard was also really endearing, and fuck his _eyes_ …

Sam might have a problem.

It’s all too often that he wakes up in the morning covered in sweat; sheets soaked through, his half-hard cock trapped in his pajamas. He hasn’t been like this since he was _sixteen_ , which contributes to his already foul mood.

 

* * *

 

 _This is going way too far_ , Sam thinks angrily.

Midterms aren’t too far away, so Sam is once again in the library, only this time his friend Jessica and her boyfriend Brady are with him. Sam sort of hopes that the tiny golden eyed boy will stay away at least _one_ time, so that he can get some studying done.

No such luck.

Jessica’s in the middle of explaining something to Brady when the blonde man comes out of the forest of books, grin up to his ears. Usually Sam suffers through whatever excuse comes out of that (very soft) mouth, but he’s stressed, tired, and filled with caffeine.

“Yo, sasquatch–”

Sam turns to look at the man, seething, “Look, I’m kind of busy right now; you can find someone else to help you.”

Unperturbed, the other doesn’t even miss a beat, “But I need someone of your _stature_.”

“No you don’t,” Sam snaps, “You’re a grown ass man, you don’t need me reaching shit off the tall shelves for you like you’re a goddamn five year old! Grow up!”

“But I–” he looks surprised, and his posture changes, and Sam doesn’t feel bad about it, nope, not at all.

“Go bother someone else,” Sam snarls.

The smile on the golden-boy’s face falls, and he shifts stances. “Sorry,” he says, almost uncharacteristically quiet, before making a bee-line for wherever he comes from when he approaches Sam.

Sam turns back to Jessica and Brady, who are both gaping at him. “What?” he gripes at them. It’s not like he did anything wrong.

“Dude, that was _harsh_ ,” Brady looks back where the nameless man disappeared, his expression somewhat sympathetic.

“Yeah, that was really uncalled for,” Jessica scolds him.

Sam tries not to yell, “He’s been bugging me for _weeks_ – I swear he doesn’t _actually_ need help, he can take care of himself! Hell, the first time I saw him he yelled at me for trying to help!” Sam’s hands shake as he compulsively takes a huge drink of the expresso sitting by his laptop.

They stare at him incredulously. “You are dumb as shit,” Brady looks like he wants to brain Sam with his textbook.

 _"What?”_ Sam goes to angry to feeling like he missed something in about a second.

“Sam, he was _flirting_ with you,” Jessica says slowly, her eyebrows past her hairline.

Wait … _what?!_

“You’re fucking with me,” Sam’s brow furrows.

“No, you’re just a total dumbass,” Brady rolls his eyes at him.

_Whoa._

**_WHOA._ **

“I really am stupid,” he breathes.

Jessica smiles over the top of her latte, “Yep.”

 

* * *

 

Sam can’t find him anywhere in the library that day, or for the next week, but after midterms are over he finally catches a break.

He’s in the mythology section, and ironically enough he’s again reaching for a book a little too high for him. Instead of stepping in to help him this time, Sam watches as the other stretches his whole body (and he feels his stomach twist when he catches a glimpse of the guy’s lower back when his shirt rides up). When he succeeds without hurting himself, he turns to leave the aisle, spotting Sam leaning against a shelf.

“Oh,” the boy begins, “I was just… I got a term paper, and I was gonna go … do that.” He spins on his heel to escape the other way, but Sam strides forward and grabs his arm, gently enough not to startle him.

Before Sam can say anything the short man turns to look at him again. “Listen, I said I was sorry, I’m not going to bother you again,” he spits out the words that Sam said almost exactly.

 _Fuck,_ Sam blinks. The 180 in attitude throws him for a loop, but it confirms the idea that he’s _hurt_ because Sam rejected him. _I’m a total doorknob._ He crowds the man against the bookshelf, and he can see slight panic flaring up in his golden eyes. “You know, I can’t actually read minds, so I probably would have appreciated it more if you had straight up asked me out. I thought you were trying to mess with me.”

The blonde’s eyes widen before he gapes at Sam, nervous energy forgotten, “ _Are you fucking serious?_ I was about as subtle as a pit-bull humping your leg!” Now he just looks indignant.

Sam sniggers, “Well, I’ve never had a dog.”

He leans forward until their chests are touching and Sam can feel how warm the other’s breath is. With a growl of frustration the blonde man grabs his collar and mashes their mouths together. The rumbling rolls through Sam’s jaw and he completely forgets to breathe for a moment because his mouth is just as soft and wet and hot as he thought it would be and – _whoa that was tongue._

Sam struggles to catch his breath when they separate, and he’s glad to note that the other boy is the same way, his pupils dilated and an easy smirk on his face. “I’m Oliver,” he says breathlessly.

“Sam,” he laughs. His face is starting to hurt from grinning.

“So, _Sam_ squatch then?”

Sam leans in and licks a stripe up the side of Oliver’s neck. He jumps in Sam’s arms, a shaky breath escaping his chest. Oliver’s eyes are dark and Sam think’s they’re gorgeous, so he tells him so.

“Can I fuck you?” Oliver blurts out, before turning red.

Sam laughs.

 

* * *

 

Sam locks the stall behind them, and for a moment it’s this awkward adjustment of limbs because Sam really is a giant, but they manage when he presses Oliver against the side of the stall, still exploring his mouth quite thoroughly. Normally he wouldn’t be all that interested in sneaking off to make out in the bathroom like a couple of horny teenagers, but they’ve been acting like them for _weeks_ and he really can’t wait.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Oliver pants by his ear, and Sam can feel his dick hard against his leg. His blood boils thinking about being able to do this properly, _god_ does he want that. “You’re too fucking _tall_ , Sammy, I want to climb you like a fucking tree.”

“Don’t call me Sammy,” Sam nips him below the ear, and a burst of breath hits his ear.

“Right,” Oliver laughs, “That means every other nickname is game.”

“…Fair enough,” Same smiles.

“Now sit down, I want to suck you. You clean?”

Sam swallows harshly, nodding. Oliver pushes against his stomach until he backs up and sits down on the edge of the toilet, trying not to fall in. Easy way to ruin the fun times, after all. Oliver manages to crouch down between his legs and the door, though it is kinda cramped. “Hurry up, anyone could walk in,” Sam breathes, leaning back while bracing himself with hands clamped on the porcelain. It creates a bit more room for Oliver to get in between his legs, and he slides forward until he’s breathing against the fly of Sam’s jeans.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Oliver growls before reaching under Sam’s hoodie to the button of his pants. Sam’s not entirely sure why that voice makes his dick throb even harder – he’s usually been the directive one in relationships, even the one or two times he hooked up with a guy, though those were usually short-lived things when his dad was on an extended hunt.

“I’ve got an idea,” Sam’s shocked at how hoarse his voice is, but he can’t help imagine all the dreams (asleep or otherwise) where he imagines stuffing that pink mouth full, just to _shut him up_. He wonders if those images will recede now that they’ve cleared up their misunderstanding.

 _Scratch that, they’ll get even worse –_ Sam thinks as Oliver unzips him and tugs his boxers down. He reaches forward and tangles his fingers in Oliver’s hair when a wet tongue licks up the underside of his dick in one slow, steady stroke. “Fuck!” he nearly falls back into the bowl.

“Careful, Sam,” Oliver says, amused, before he sucks the head of Sam’s cock into his mouth. _Fuck, fuck,_ **fuck** _,_ his fingers tighten in Oliver’s hair. Those strands of brown-gold (he can’t really decide the colour) are just as soft as he thought they would be. Instead of complaining, the other man gives him a heated look from where his head rests between Sam’s legs.

“Ah, shit!” Sam gasps, and he can feel Oliver smiling around him. Without any warning Oliver shifts again, taking the whole of Sam’s cock down his throat. Sam’s eyes widen, and watches as Oliver bobs his head, saliva slipping out and down into the water. The bathroom is filled with slick, wet noises, and the squeaks of Sam’s boots sliding across the tile.

As Sam’s abdomen tightens, he notices Oliver’s shoulders shaking, and for a moment he’s confused before he realizes that he’s jacking himself off while he’s blowing Sam. A small noise escapes Sam’s throat before his whole body shudders, coming down Oliver’s throat with a half-strangled yell.

Sam watches, dazed, heart thumping in his chest, as Oliver slips off his dick and spits come into the toilet. His eyes are wet and mouth still slick, and Sam’s cock twitches again. He grabs Oliver’s collar and lifts him so that the other man is hunched over him, legs splayed around Sam’s, his erection bobbing in the air. Sam licks his way into Oliver’s mouth, his other hand closing around the blonde’s cock.

“Sam – shit!” Oliver pants, his spit smeared between their mouths, “Fuck!”

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Sam smiles and nips his lower lip, “Go on – come for me.”

Oliver cries out, legs shaking. Sam supports him with one arm as he shifts back so he won’t be splashed by Oliver’s come. The blonde then slumps against him, laughing quietly.

“I knew it; you’re really a kinky sonuvabitch underneath that polite smile!” Oliver chokes between tears of laughter.

Sam most certainly does _not_ blush, “Shut up.”

After a moment or two to catch their breath (because holy shit Sam hasn’t come that hard in fucking _years_ ), they both tuck themselves back into their jeans and stand up, still in each other’s space due to the tight quarters. After a moment’s thought, Sam flushes the toilet.

“So…” Sam begins.

“You wanna go get Chinese food?” Oliver grins.

He snorts, “Don’t you usually ask your date out _before_ blowing them in a public washroom?” They’re still pressed up together, and they probably smell like sex, hair messed up and faces flushed.

“Eh,” Oliver shrugs non-repentantly, “This was more fun anyway.”

“Even the part where I thought you were trying to make fun of me?” Sam raises an eyebrow.

“Well, maybe not that bit,” Oliver huffs, “But think of the stories we can tell!”

Sam thinks he might be able to love this man someday.


End file.
